Project Prodigy: The Return
by Sirius7
Summary: Updated 5/30/03. The muses are back!! Commencement and 25 post-ep and AU. R and R, please.
1. Part I

Project Prodigy: The Return 

Author: Sirius

Disclaimer: Anyone you recognize from the _West Wing_ doesn't belong to me, but the plot is mine.  Also, any _JAG_, _Kung Fu: The Legend Continues_, _Scarecrow and Mrs. King, The American President, Air Force One _and _Highlander_ characters belong to their respective creators, although the only one I'm borrowing from _Highlander _is Joe Dawson, without any knowledge of Immortals or Watchers. Immortals don't exist here.  He's still a Vietnam Veteran and a jazz musician, but… well, you'll find out.  The Connor MacLeod mentioned here has no relationship to movie or series, as you'll see.  Rynna definitely belongs to me, and yes, there are people this intelligent.

Rating: PG-13, for now.  There are harsh words, but nothing that would bump up the rating too much, yet.

Characters: C/Z pairing – as soon as I get the French guy out of the way – with C/OC friendship.  OC/Well, I'll be asking for opinions on that.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 1:  The timeline for this is as follows: Jim Marshall was elected in 1982, and served from January 1983 to January 1991.  For the purposes of this story, the hijacking of AFOne took place in his second term, sometime in 1989 (and yes, I know the movie said it was his first term, but for this story, 2nd term works better).  Andy Sheppard was elected in 1990 and served two terms, from January 1991-January 1999.  And, in accordance with the West Wing timeline, Jed Bartlet was elected in 1998 and serves from January 1999-Present.  The other little quirks in the timeline will become apparent as the story progresses.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: This is the first installment of a proposed "Project Prodigy" Series.  It is set in a different AU than my "Tempered by Fire" Series, but some of the original characters are the same.  This is also something of a mega-crossover AU, with the shows previously mentioned in the disclaimer.  Also, this contains spoilers through the episode "Commencement," and begins where that episode ended (meaning that this will be completely off-track for cannon as soon as Wednesday rolls around with the season finale).  Also, I am still working on my other stories, though they have been slightly delayed by a full-time job and my concentration on a work of original fiction, as well as my West Wing muses having a temporary hissy-fit.  They won't let me work on the others until I at least get this one started.  Anyway, the next chapters of "Retribution" and "Something Evil…" should be up soon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 3:  I'm presuming that Charlie is 25 at this point in the series, as he looked like he was having a beer in the whole first season bar scene (I can't remember the episode name, but I'm betting that it sticks in the heads of most C/Z fans) – which would have made him 21 when Zoey was 18 (she was just starting her first year at Georgetown).  

Summary:  "When you say sister, you're not talking about Deena, are you?"

In the midst of the chaos that had erupted after Wesley had become aware of Bookbag's kidnapping, after he called Ron Butterfield and shared a (very) quick word with Charlie about what was going on, but before the President had time to close Washington, the agent found himself slightly distracted by a light hand on his shoulder.  

"Sir."

He turned quickly, catching sight of one of the young agents – new, as well – who had been sent down to help secure the scene.

"Yes?"

"Sir," she repeated, "there's a DEA agent who's insisting on speaking to you.  She says that she was in the club and was close enough to hear some of what was being said between the First Daughter and her boyfriend… and that it's relevant.  She's got a bit of an attitude problem, but seems fairly certain about the information."

"Bring her over here," Wesley said, in the midst of coordinating the scene and issuing orders to the assorted personnel.  "Make sure she's got her ID where I can see it and tell her if she says anything about a jurisdictional dispute, I'm going to be less than happy."

"Understood."  The young, nameless Agent went away, and Wesley took half a second to draw in a deep breath.  He'd already dealt with local police and glory-seeking FBI agents all wanting to offer their input… to the extent that he could barely hear anything else.  DEA would just be the icing on the damn cake.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Charlie pacing and knew no one would be able to get him away from the scene unless they knocked him out first.  Josh Lyman had gone straight back to the West Wing, though, knowing that Leo would be distracted enough trying to keep the President from … well… being Jed Bartlet, Father.  It would be up to Josh to run the country… and up to Wesley to find Zoey Bartlet.  In the meantime, he'd sent a couple agents to keep Charlie from doing anything rash while he was here.

Out of the corner of his eye, Wesley caught sight of the still-unnamed agent, and the woman he presumed to be the DEA agent in question – average height, ash-blond or light brown hair done in what looked to be a French braid, slim, athletic, and walking toward him with a casualness that belied the sense of urgency in her request to the other woman.  When she got closer, he nodded.

"What do you have?"

"Are you the agent in charge of the scene?"

"Yes.  What do you have?"

"DEA agent Corinne de Valle."  _Sounds Spanish,_ he thought.  She handed him her ID, which he inspected and handed back with a nod.

"Should I ask why there was a DEA presence here, tonight, Agent de Valle?"

"I'm not official," she responded.  "I'm technically on vacation, but I was sitting close enough to the First Daughter to hear some of what was being said over the music – fragments, but I believe it has bearing.  I also have a way to find her."

"Tell me.  NOW."

"The first fragment I heard implied that the First Daughter was rethinking the idea of going to France, to which her boyfriend was offering varied suggestions… come for a few weeks and then decide, et cetera.  She started looking a little woozy, and a bit later asked him if he had slipped Ecstasy into her drink.  He said he had."

"WHAT!?"  Corinne spun to see Charlie standing right behind her, eyes burning.  The look on his face all but screamed, _Where is that bastard?_

Corinne spoke before Wesley had a chance. "Charlie, calm down.  You won't be able to help her if you're in jail for beating up on her sleazy soon-to-be-ex boyfriend.  Let the Secret Service do it; they can actually get away with that."

"Cori?  Why are you…?  You know what, I don't think I want to know.  I'm gonna go find…"

"Charlie!  There will be no beating up of the Frog Prince."  Her tone of voice made Charlie stop in his tracks.  He turned and looked at her, glancing toward Wesley – who was watching them both.

_They know each other,_ he thought.  _Somehow, I don't think Agent de Valle chose to be here tonight for the nightlife._  "You had something else to tell me, Agent?"

"Yes, sir," she replied, still paying attention – as were the two men – to the surrounding chaos.  "I don't believe it was a coincidence that he chose tonight to drug her, sir.  The Ecstasy would have slowed her thinking process and reaction time enough that pressing her panic button would not have occurred to her.  I think he was in on it.  However… I do have a way to find her."

"How?"

"Agent," she paused for a second, then continued, "I used to be part of a CIA covert ops team.  When the team – as a whole – was… retired, we kept a few of our favorite toys.  When she got up to go to the restroom, I slipped a small tracker in her pocket.  Then I went to find you to let you know about the boyfriend.  Unfortunately, all hell broke loose first."  At the rather incredulous look on his face, she took a piece of paper from her pocket and wrote down the frequency of the tracker, handing it to him without comment.

He acted immediately.

TBC…


	2. Part II

The Return, Part II 

Author: Sirius

Disclaimer: See Part I for ratings and disclaimers.

Author's Note: MY MUSES CAME BACK!!!!  YAY!!!!!  Also, for the purposes of this fic, _Scarecrow and Mrs. King _took place ten years before the conventional series timeline.  In other words, instead of the marriage taking place in the early '80s, it took place in the early '70s.  It's confusing, I know, but it will make sense later.  There's really just a minor reference to it in a later part, but I thought I'd explain ahead of time and get it out of the way.

Note 2: This portion of the fic references few moments in "25."  I loathed the Speaker and wanted to get rid of him, so…

Part II

Three people sat in a single room, thoughts centered on that night's events.  The slimmer man watched as his oldest friend got up to pace the perimeter of the room.  

All the calls had been made and no one was getting in or out of D.C. – by plane, train, bus, car, bicycle or his own two feet – without being stopped by law enforcement or the National Guard.

Everything that these three could do had already been done, and all that was left was prayer.  Over-riding the hopeful whispers was a single thought in the minds of all.  _Not again.  Please, God, not again._

Five hours later:

The Cabinet had been called and had voted.  The Speaker stood before the desk, the President behind it.  He took a last look at the paper that would – temporarily, he hoped – strip from him the powers of the office.  _Damn it, John, why the hell didn't you fight?_

Bartlet knew why.  It was the same reason he was prepared to sign this now.  Hoynes couldn't fight the accusations and still protect his family.  Bartlet couldn't fight for his family and still protect the country.  At this point, it was one or the other.

No one noticed his hand shaking as he set pen to paper and took a deep breath.  The pen had just begun to move across the paper when a commotion outside the Oval made him pause.  The noise coincided with Ron taking a sudden intense interest in whatever he was hearing over his earpiece… as well as the – officially – unheralded entrance of Charlie and an unfamiliar woman into the Oval Office.  All three spoke simultaneously.  "Don't sign that, sir.  We've found her."

The pen dropped from Bartlet's suddenly nerveless fingers, and he didn't notice as Leo grabbed the paper and proceeded to rip it into interestingly-shaped confetti.  The Speaker had a look of… not quite annoyance… on his face, and looked as though he'd been about to speak, before thinking better of it.  Unfortunately, in the end, he elected to say it anyway.

"What is the meaning of this, boy?"

"Did he just call me _boy_?" Charlie muttered quietly, glaring at him

"He did, and I'm sure that my illustrious team leader will want to kick his six for that at some later date.  But for now, I think he would appreciate an answer to his question.  The meaning of this, Speaker," the unfamiliar woman stated, "is that Zoey Bartlet has been found – alive, I might add – and you are being arrested.  And hey, my day's perfect, because the DOJ decided to let me have the privilege of busting your sorry ass.  Let's see if I can remember all the charges.  We have… kidnapping – several charges, actually.  Let's tack on drug trafficking, conspiracy to commit murder, terrorism… and there's quite possibly treason in there somewhere, along with about fifty other assorted charges.  Of course, that's just at this moment.  They'll probably be adding others on as the evidence gains a little clarity.  By the way, I'd suggest firing whoever you got to write the ransom note – definitely not a native speaker – and the vocabulary errors were a dead give away.  Profilers had fun with that little bit of idiocy."

The Speaker was spluttering in impotent rage at this point.  "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Me?  DEA Agent Corinne de Valle, Speaker – and you were responsible for making fourteen years of my life a living hell.  In fact, you might say that I'm a regular prodigy when it comes to pain… although if I said that, I'd be stealing my team leader's lines."  Cori grinned as the Speaker blanched… and Ron instantly realized that it was not a happy grin.  This was intensely personal, and she looked at him with the gaze of someone who was finally seeing justice done.

The Speaker submitted to being cuffed and frisked – there were ten Secret Service Agents in the room, after all.  It's not as though he had much choice.  

Bartlet was too shocked to speak at the moment.  His baby girl was alright.  The nightmare wouldn't go on forever… not like last time.  They wouldn't have to go through it again.  Butterfield, however, was having several pertinent thoughts on the night's situation.  The primary question on his mind was the first out of his mouth.  "Where is she?"

"She's on her way back here with the retrieval team and should be walking through the door in half an hour."

"The Service didn't send a retrieval team, Agent de Valle."

"Cori?"  Charlie's question was apparently one that only the two of them understood, and she answered with a nod.

"But," he said, stumbling slightly over his words, "Ry… the TL hasn't handled a firearm in eight years… not even for target practice."

"I know.  All members of the team were armed… but the suspects were taken alive, per the Team Leader's orders.  Of course, some of them are a little… bloodier than others, but they are _all_ alive. Targeter's keeping an eye on them at the scene until someone can get down to pick them up.  TL went off somewhere once the mission was complete and Wizard Prince wasn't part of it.  The rest are bringing her up here and will cheerfully surrender their weapons – all of which are legal, in case anyone's wondering – at the front gate, with the understanding that the team will reclaim them when they leave."

"How large of a team are we talking here?" Butterfield asked once the Speaker (former and soon to be disgraced) was out of hearing range.

Charlie answered his question.  "Since Cori's here, Prince is overseas, and Marcus… That would leave four.  Since TL has apparently disappeared and Targeter is with the prisoners, there will be two people escorting Zoey back – a black man who has the build of your quintessential Marine… and a tall, slim woman of Middle Eastern decent."

The look Ron gave to the aide promised that he would be talking to the younger man later.  "This isn't a Service team.  Who are you people, Agent de Valle?"

"We were… at one point… a CIA wet team, Agent Butterfield.  We were very good at our jobs… and very, very young.  Everyone is when they first start that kind of work."  Butterfield didn't miss the look that Charlie shot her at this point.  

"We are, of course, no longer with the CIA.  If we were, then our participation in this matter would be highly illegal.  As a team, we resigned – quite some time ago – when we were given illegal orders, which we refused to follow.  Any details beyond that, Agent, would be of a higher security classification than is possessed by most of the individuals in this room.  I can divulge many of them with my former team leader's permission, but until then… you're out of luck.  You have my apologies, if that helps."

"Wait, wait," Will said, from his position in the cluster of Senior Staff, where he had been quietly observing the proceedings.  "You said that this team – vague as that seems – _was_ a CIA wet team.  What are they – or rather, all of you – now, and how did you get involved in this?"

"I, personally, got involved in this as a favor to my team leader, who was concerned about something Charlie had mentioned in passing.  Jean-Paul's name struck a chord and made a certain person very uneasy.  Since I was on vacation at the time, I was asked to keep an eye on him."

"Wait, why wasn't I told about this?"

"TL wasn't sure if it was a valid concern or a personal one.  Like I said, the name struck a chord.  His father was the one who started that ruckus with Connor in May of '98."

"Wait, Jean-Paul's father was the one who called Connor a …" Charlie trailed off here, clearly not wanting to repeat what had been said.

"Yeah… anyway, as it seems the President is still speechless, I will be completely imprudent and offer a suggestion – that said President go spend some time with the First Lady while waiting for his daughter and that the rest of the staff – with the notable exception of Charlie – get some sleep.  In Charlie's case, it's a lost cause.  Unfortunately, I suspect the same is true of everyone else as well.  I just bet the Press Room is going to be interesting tomorrow."

Bartlet found his voice before she could get to the door.  "Agent de Valle, finish your business with the Speaker and then get back here.  I will have a joyous reunion with my daughter and once I am certain she is safe, we will continue this discussion.  I expect to see all of the participating members of this unorthodox group here within three hours.  Charlie, as you seem to – oddly enough – _know _this group, you will see to their comfort if I am not available when they all arrive… and you will track down those that are missing."

"Yes, Mr. President," he said.  Inside, he simply thought that his assignment was easier said than done.  Bartlet dismissed his staff and dragged Leo with him to the Residence, when they waited with Abbey for Zoey's safe arrival.  

TBC…


	3. Part III

The Return, Part III 

Author: Sirius

Email: wildwolf514@yahoo.com 

Disclaimer: For rating and disclaimer, see Part I

Author's Note: Yes!  My muses have returned from the International Muse Convention!!!  The Sirius One does the dance of joy.

Without further ado, I present… Part III:

One by one, the team members filtered by Charlie's desk, most with a nod to a wary Ron Butterfield and an edgy Wesley Davis, who had left Service forensics specialists in charge of the crime scene at the club.  The first two team members to walk through the outer office door – forty-five minutes after the President had retired to the Residence – comprised the escort whose primary mission had been to deliver Zoey safely to her parents.  The two had been told by agents in the Residence to see Charlie prior to leaving, and had been slightly unnerved by the smile shared between the two… the smile that almost stated that they had planned to see Charlie even if the agents had `recommended' otherwise.  

Ron silently assessed the first two to walk up to Charlie's desk.  The man – 6'4" tall, roughly 240 pounds of muscle, and African-American – did indeed look like the quintessential Marine – large and intimidating.  He moved with an ease that betrayed years of training, and Ron had no doubt that the man could be dangerous when he wished.  

The woman to his side, though, would have given Ron the opposite impression had she not been dressed as she was.  In form and muscle tone she was similar to the young DEA agent who had been in the Oval earlier.  The agent had been shorter though – about 5'6" – and the new woman topped her by a good two or three inches.  Had he seen her anywhere else, wearing any_thing_ else, Ron most likely would not have classed her as a security risk.  That, in his mind, moved her further up on the threat scale than the taller man beside her.  Both nodded to him, but focused on Charlie.

"K, Charlie," the man said, "we were told to see you, and here we are."

"The question," the woman continued, "is what weren't we told?"

Charlie had stood when they entered the room, and now stood in the space between Butterfield and these two members of the elusive team.  Ron noted with interest Charlie's seemingly default position of mediator, and realized that he was the middleman here simply because he was apparently the one person in this building trusted by both parties.  Ron knew that Charlie would never do anything to harm Zoey, that he hadn't trusted Jean-Paul, and that his sense of honor – of right and wrong – was very similar to Bartlet's.  Much as he disliked the Frenchman, Charlie wasn't one to ever set him up.  

He trusted these people… so Ron would give them a chance – a small one, but it was better than they would have had without Charlie's presence.  Granted, they'd apparently rescued Zoey… but why were they there in the first place?

"Ron," Charlie said, "I'd like to introduce you to Kyle Brandt and Alia Reshon, former members of Prodigy I."

"Prodigy?"

"Our Team Leader will explain further, Agent Butterfield."  Having seen Brandt's movements and having some idea of his skills, Ron had not expected the voice that emerged from the man's mouth.  It was quiet, polite but resolute… seemingly designed to set listeners at ease, despite the man's size.  Ron suspected that it was cultivated precisely for that reason.  

The uneasy silence lasted for more than a few seconds before Charlie spoke again.  "Alia, Kyle, why don't you take advantage of the locker rooms and clean up a bit before the meeting.  You've got a couple hours, but for Ron's peace of mind, don't leave the building.  Call it… twenty minutes, then meet back here and we'll all head to the Mess."  Brandt and Reshon nodded, seemingly at ease with the almost-command from the President's Aide.  That fact alone was almost enough to make Ron snap, tense as he already was.  He would give his right arm to figure out what the hell was going on here.

Yet, as the two left the room, shadowed by another agent, Ron wondered why it was that Charlie didn't realize they were looking to him for orders.  Whatever position he was in with the group, whatever power he held… he didn't know it.

They had been given twenty minutes; both were clean and standing by Charlie's desk in ten, the small black backpacks more visible now than they had been against the previously all-black attire.  _These two certainly don't waste any time, _Ron thought.  _I wonder if they're examples of the rest of the team or if this particular trait is restricted to them.  _Had Ron been anyone else, he would have been pacing by now, irritation more than evident in his every step.  As it was, his face firmly set in an impassive mask, he merely gestured them all to move out.

He couldn't help but notice that the two looked to Charlie to confirm the order.

By three a.m., the third member of the team had joined them.  _Agent de Valle called him `Targeter,'_ Ron remembered, making a mental to run a check on the code name as well as everything else.  Targeter was a slim Hispanic man who stood roughly 5'10" and seemed to see everything around him.  Butterfield knew there had to be a reason for the name other than that abnormally high level of sensitivity to his surroundings.  He still had his doubts as to whether these people could be trusted… but they _had_ rescued Bookbag.  Shaking his head just slightly, the agent turned to watch the group again.

An hour later, a tired DEA agent made her way back into the West Wing, having already fought off more than her fair share of reporters for the night.  She met up with the rest near Charlie's desk, where they had returned after growing tired of sitting in the Mess.  Cori dearly wished the upcoming talk could be postponed, but orders were orders and the only way they'd get out of this was if the President was asleep.

Ron's thinking on the timing of this discussion ran along the same lines.  He would have loved to get some shut-eye, but finding out what was going on took priority.  More importantly, however, Bartlet wasn't asleep.  Ron knew it.  Charlie knew it.  The team members probably knew it.  All of them knew there was no chance of putting this meeting off until tomorrow – or at least until they'd slept, as it was _already_ tomorrow.

Ron knew they would have to discuss security issues… and the Press.  CJ had briefed the Press Corps on Zoey's safe return shortly after Brandt and Reshon had walked the First Daughter to the doors of the Residence, and the Press Secretary was now asleep on the couch in her office.  Ron wouldn't have been surprised to find Concannon sacked out in her chair.  He knew that none of the Senior Staff had gone home, though he would have had to take a moment and check with his people to see exactly _where_ they were in the building.

Much as he would have liked to, Ron did not move to rub his eyes, did not allow any motion that might indicate he was not quite at his best.  The tired agent took a good look at the people around him, wondering for yet another time that night exactly how old these people were… and noticing that there were only three members of the actual retrieval team present.  Where was their team leader?  

At 4:30, Bartlet made his way down to the Oval Office and sent Charlie to rouse the Senior Staff; he knew as well as Ron that none of them had gone home.  It would not have occurred to any of them to leave in the middle of this, save for Toby's visits to the twins – perfectly understandable and acceptable, especially given the circumstances.  

When Charlie returned, Senior Staff in tow, the President had already ushered the team into the Oval.  Seeing the group patiently waiting – except for Josh, who was bouncing – Bartlet motioned for them to enter, his gesture clearly including those members of the group who were not Senior Staff.  To say that Danny was shocked would have been something of an understatement.

The President looked over the group of people before him, eyes focusing in turn on select individuals.  "Josh," he said, "either cut back on the caffeine or find a way to work off the energy.  I don't think people are allowed to _bounce_ in the Oval Office."  The Deputy Chief of Staff might have been worried… if Bartlet hadn't been grinning.  Donna, standing beside him, unobtrusively put a hand on his arm and he stilled instantly.  Margaret didn't see it, Danny was paying more attention to the President, and Ron wouldn't say anything.

"Charlie."  This time, when Bartlet spoke, Charlie stiffened slightly.  This was going to be hell to explain.  "Introduce me to these ladies and gentlemen please."  The aide could hear the impatience, gratitude, exhaustion and slight sarcasm mixed in his voice.  He hated being out of the loop on things like this and Charlie knew it.

"Sir, on the far right is Tomás Galindez, next to him is Alia Reshon, followed by Kyle Brandt… and you've already met Agent de Valle.  They were, at one point in time, four members of a covert team with the CIA, Team One in the CIA's Project Prodigy."  Charlie was visibly uneasy at this point.  He didn't want to explain this, didn't want to reveal how much he knew about it and the secrets he'd had to keep because of it.

"I thought there were four people on the retrieval team, Charlie."

"There are, sir.  I'm having a little difficulty locating the Team Leader.  TL's not at home, not at the apartment, and not carrying the cell phone or the pager, which isn't that surprising.  I even tried the jet and the _Coral Sea_.  Wait a minute… it _has_ to be getting late.  I should have checked this first."  By this point, everyone in the room was confused, and could simply watch as Charlie pulled out his cell phone and dialed a local number.

"Dave," he said, "has my sister dropped in tonight?"

Most didn't hear all of what he said after that, focusing on the first few words of that sentence.  After Charlie hung up the phone, Bartlet was the first to speak.  "When you say sister, you're not talking about Deena, are you?"

TBC…


End file.
